The Moonglow Sisters

by Lori Wilde

  The meals of mung bean soup and fermented bread, the ice-cold showers, the four a.m. awakenings to sit cross-legged chanting for two and a half hours in a windowless, pitch-black room. The eighteen hours of hard physical labor and/or long, boring lectures with minuscule breaks espousing Guru Meyer’s doctrine.

  Guru Meyer had presented these practices as “chakra cleansing” and “spirit strengthening” but Shelley now saw them for what they were, the building blocks of mind control—deprivation, isolation, manipulation.

  Five years ago, hurting so badly from Maddie’s anger, and trapped in a shame spiral, she’d run straight into Guru Meyer’s devious arms—ignoring red flags, checking her brain at the door, and surrendering her personal power to this man who offered what seemed on the surface unconditional love.

  Enticing, heady stuff for a wounded, guilt-filled young woman desperate for salvation.

  But why had he come after her?

  It occurred to her then, while she stood transfixed and terrified, heel throbbing, blood pooling at her feet, that maybe, because she’d once been such a hard-core devotee of Guru Meyer and his group, when she’d left, others had woken up and jumped ship as well. For instance, where were Sach and Prem, the two older women who never left his side? They might have stayed back at Cobalt Soul, but wouldn’t he have at least brought one of the faithful with him to ride herd on the four wide-eyed acolytes protectively surrounding him like bodyguards?

  She saw the truth in his eyes, just for a flicker-second, his expression hot and needy. He had to get her back. His carefully constructed world was on the verge of collapse. If he could bring Shelley back into the fold, he would regain the upper hand with his flock.

  “We’ve come to bring you home.” He tightened his grip on her elbow, his tone firm.

  Shelley’s knees weakened. Once upon a time she’d been slavishly dedicated to this man. Had thought she’d loved him in a cosmic way.

  “We’ve missed you so much.”

  “Come home!” exclaimed the youngest disciple with short, curly hair so red she reminded Shelley of Little Orphan Annie. She’d run away from her upper-crust New England family to eat gruel in a Costa Rican hut. Guru Meyer had bestowed the name Japji upon her. Japji’s real name was Frieda and she was just seventeen.

  “It’s not the same without you, Sanpreet,” said a sleek, blond, empty-eyed yogi named Sumran. She’d once appeared on the cover of Yoga Journal in some impossibly complicated pose, back when her name was Diane, before she’d left her husband and children to join Guru Meyer at Cobalt Soul. “Please come home with us.”

  Guru Meyer wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close in a tight embrace. As he held her, she closed her eyes, searching for that feeling of acceptance and forgiveness she’d once felt in his hugs.

  Nope. Nothing. It all felt false and forced. The magic spell broken. Stiffly, her hands fisted, and arms locked to her sides, she did not hug him back.

  “You smell of meat.” He sniffed.

  She stepped away, tilted her chin up, met his gaze fortified with steel. “Bacon does make the world go ’round.”

  “The illusionary world,” he said. “I can see they’ve lured you back into the false dimension.”

  “The real world,” she insisted through gritted teeth.

  “You are deeply troubled, my child.” His voice was soft, kind. “But there is nothing to fear. We are here. We have your back. You are loved. Always.”

  Such seductive promises. Everything she wanted to hear. You are loved. Who wouldn’t want to hear that?

  Maybe she’d been wrong about Guru Meyer and his group.

  It wasn’t as if she’d been harmed or sexually pressured, which she knew happened in other such groups. He’d offered her sanctuary when she’d had none. She had felt loved and accepted when she was there.

  It was how she’d given them five years of her life. Working for a grass roof over her head and mung bean soup.

  At Cobalt Soul, she never ate dinner alone and when disagreements did pop up, they were handled swiftly by a council. No punishment was ever meted out, unless you considered additional chanting and meditation assignments punishment, which she had not.

  The only major drawback was that she conformed to the groupthink. If she stepped out of line, she was gently encouraged to readjust her thinking. Any attempts to stand out and individuate were tenderly quashed, until she believed it was her own idea to eat the foods they ate, dress like they dressed, spend her free time doing community service, and give Guru Meyer all her money and earthly possessions.

  Was that really so bad? Her basic needs had been met and her rebellious ways curbed.

  No, no it had not been that bad. Which is why it had been so easy to deny what had happened to her.

  She’d lost her identity.

  Which Guru Meyer told her was the point. To erase “Shelley” and become “Sanpreet,” an enlightened spirit and part of the collective whole whose mission it was to save the planet with love and devotion to their cause.

  Erase your ego. Dissolve the self. Eradicate your identity.

  Once upon a time, it sounded so good. She’d been desperate to expunge the old Shelley and become someone else. Which, in retrospect, she’d done to great effect.

  But suddenly, like a lightning bolt, she saw the flip side. No ego meant no self. Which she’d thought was a good thing. Then again, how many times had Guru Meyer pounded into her head that things were neither good nor bad, they just were?

  Here was the head-scratcher that even cognitive dissonance couldn’t quite sweep under the rug. If you eradicated your identity, just who in the jackfruit were you?

  Reality was a kick in the teeth, truth the red neon signs she’d ignored. For five freaking years she’d been mumbling malarkey. Sacrificing two hours and forty minutes every morning at 4:30 A.M. and her soul was as grungy as ever.

  She had never thought about exposing the group, because it was her word against theirs and he was so adept at gaslighting, projecting, and denial, she would come off looking like the crazy one. Plus, he knew all her dirty secrets from the confession sessions he imposed on acolytes. He could expose her just as much as she could expose him.

  Fear kept her quiet.

  Plus, this was all new to her. The notion that Cobalt Soul was rotten underneath the surface talk of peace, love, and acceptance. She’d only started to realize how much he controlled the group once she was out of it. He had a way of making you think that his ideas came from your own mind. He was a true puppet master. People who had never been in a cult didn’t understand the psychological power such manipulators wielded.

  And how sticky were the emotional webs they wove.

  Shelley shivered, realizing just how much of her life she’d given away to this man.

  “We have a van waiting,” Guru Meyer said, keeping his tone even, his face smiling. His piercing, uncanny ice-blue eyes could stare straight through her as if he could see through all the muck and masks straight clean to the center of her soul.

  At one time, his ability to truly “see” her intoxicated Shelley. In this moment, it was downright creepy.

  “I can’t go with you,” she said.

  “Why not?” he asked in that lullaby voice that had once lured her to sleep, but now rubbed every nerve ending raw.

  His hug was tender and nonsexual. The loving way a father hugged a daughter. Not once had she ever gotten any sinister sexual vibes from him.

  Guru Meyer wasn’t a pervert taking advantage of the women in his group, at least as far as she knew. She hesitated. Maybe she was wrong after all. Maybe she’d just gotten confused. It had been so easy at Cobalt Soul. Nothing to think about. No angry sisters challenging her.

  When he wrapped his arm around her waist again, she buried her face against Guru Meyer’s shoulder and, to her horrified surprise, started to sob.

  “Yes, yes, my beloved,” he murmured. “You’ve had your little adventure, but now it is time to come home.”

&n
bsp; Where was Maddie? What was taking her so long with that broom? Her big sister would chase him off.

  The others bowed and bobbed their heads, pressing their palms together in prayer pose. Sumran fingered her mala, twisting the beads. Japji smiled a moony smile of ecstasy and whispered, “Our sister is coming home.”

  Shelley suddenly shook her head, stepping back from the guru and wiping her eyes. She would stand her ground. She didn’t need Maddie. She could save herself. “I can’t go with you. My family needs me. My grandmother—”

  “We’re your family,” Guru Meyer said, his voice changing, growing firmer. The way a loving father might guide his daughter.

  “I’m talking about my blood family.”

  “How has it been for you since coming home?” He’d always had the power to see through her and get right to the heart of what was bothering her. He had amazing instincts.

  She’d watched him use those same skills on other group members. Assuring them they were loved, convincing them he cared about them in a way no one else did.

  “I—”

  “Please.” His hand was at her shoulders and his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, drilled into her as if he were trying to hypnotize her. “Come with us.”

  Go with him, whispered the part of her that had found salvation in Costa Rica. Surrender. Give in. Let go. Go back to sleep.

  The thought was so appealing. Despite the rules and regulations, Cobalt Soul had been such a serene place. Yes, she’d surrendered her power. Yes, it had been rather surreal, but wasn’t that part of the appeal?

  “I—”

  “Beat it, buster. Leave Shelley alone.” Madison’s voice from behind her was strong and commanding.

  “There’s no Shelley here,” Guru Meyer murmured, never taking his gaze off Shelley’s face. “Only our beloved Sanpreet.”

  Madison, bless her assertive heart, dropped the broom and dustpan she carried and got between Shelley and Guru Meyer, breaking his grip on her elbow.

  Fists drawn, body cocked and ready for a fight, Maddie said, “She’s my sister and I say step off, big guy, if you don’t want me to call law enforcement and have you arrested for attempted kidnapping.”

  The acolyte bodyguards surged forward, linking arms around Guru Meyer.

  “I’ve already called the cops, Madison,” the checkout clerk hollered.

  Guru Meyer’s mask slipped then and for a split second Shelley saw fierce hatred directed toward Madison flare in his eyes. Her sister was keeping him from getting his way and Guru Meyer was accustomed to being obeyed.

  “It’s not kidnapping if she comes of her own free will,” he said, haughtiness icing his voice. “Sanpreet, let’s go.”

  Feeling as if she were standing a long distance away watching herself respond, she stepped away from his outstretched hand. Felt the glass shard dig deeper into her heel.

  Heard Madison exclaim, “Shelley, you’re bleeding!”

  “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  “No, you’re not. You have glass in your foot and you look like a zombie.”

  Shelley blinked and repeated, “I’m okay.”

  “What did this asshole do to you?” Madison wrapped her arm around Shelley’s shoulder and dagger-glared at Guru Meyer. “Put your weight on me. I’ll help you get to a chair and we’ll tend to your foot.”

  Police sirens wailed up Moonglow Boulevard.

  “If you don’t come with us now, Sanpreet,” Guru Meyer hissed, “you are no longer welcome in our group. We’ll have no further contact with you. You can never return to Cobalt Soul. Think about it. You’ll be losing your spiritual family. The ones who took you in when your blood sisters turned their backs on you. You’ll have no support—”

  “She’ll have me.” Madison tightened her grip around Shelley and said to her, “You’ll have Gia and Mike and Darynda and the Quilting Divas.”

  “And me,” said the shop clerk. “And everyone at AM-A-Zing Liquors.”

  “Shelley . . .” Madison said.

  “Sanpreet.” Guru Meyer reached for her hand.

  “Come home, come home,” the four young women in white chanted. “Come home, come home, come home.”

  Shelley looked first at Guru Meyer, then at Madison. Standing on one leg, hovering her injured foot off the ground, she slipped her arm around Madison’s waist, met Guru Meyer’s eyes that had turned from peaceful to stormy.

  “Guru Meyer,” she said, “I want to thank you for everything you did for me. You helped me when I was at my lowest point, but the truth is, I’m already home. I don’t need you anymore.”

  “Don’t throw away your salvation,” he said.

  “Mister, leave my sister alone. I have a TV show and we can do a program on cults if you catch my drift.” Madison growled.

  “We are not a cult.”

  “Then if I did a show on breaking free from a cult you wouldn’t be alarmed?”

  His jaw clenched, and his eyes clouded. “And if I go quietly?”

  “My show never mentions you,” Madison said.

  “I could sue if you do.”

  “I could countersue.”

  “I could destroy you.”

  “Ditto, buddy. We could go down in flames together.”

  He dropped the wise sage act and Shelley saw him for who he really was, like the wimpy Wizard of Oz behind the scary curtain. His lip curled in a scornful snarl and his face darkened. “So be it,” he said. “You are dead to us, Sanpreet.”

  Then just as two police walked into the liquor store, their hands resting on the butts of their holstered weapons, Guru Meyer motioned for his disciples to follow him and they swept out the side exit.

  “C’mon,” Madison said, squeezing Shelley’s hand. “Let’s get you patched up, little sister.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Madison

  KALEIDOSCOPE: A quilt block pattern in which fabric is pieced so that it resembles the variegated image seen through a kaleidoscope.

  THE CLERK AT AM-A-Zing Liquors had a first aid kit she let Madison use to tend Shelley’s foot. The police officers discussed the disturbance with them and left the store, issuing parting instructions to call them again if the big bald guy in white—who one kept calling Mr. Clean—returned to cause trouble.

  A moment later, that same officer, wearing a sheepish grin, asked Madison for her autograph for his wife.

  With a flourish of her pen, she sent him on his way and turned back to Shelley. The purple-haired clerk, Velma, according to her name tag, had parked Shelley on a stool behind the counter, with Shelley’s bleeding right foot resting on her left knee. The first aid kit lay open on the counter beside a bottle of salted caramel Crown Royal.

  Efficiently, Madison cleaned and dressed Shelley’s wound while Velma swept up the shattered bottle of lemon vodka and cleaned the blood off Shelley’s flip-flops. Madison left enough money to cover the mess, plus a little extra, thanked Velma for the use of the first aid kit, and offered Shelley her arm as she hobbled from the store.

  “We forgot the liquor for the party,” Shelley said.

  “So we did.” Leaving Shelley buckled in with the windows down to catch the ocean breeze, Madison buzzed back inside and bought several flavors of vodka, plus the salted caramel whiskey since Shelley was a fan of salted caramel.

  Velma smiled shyly and asked for an autograph. Madison readily complied and bustled back outside to find the car empty.

  Good grief, where had Shelley gotten off to on an injured foot?

  She swept her gaze around, spied Shelley across the street, limping down the wooden staircase that led to the beach. Not the sand! You’ll get sand in your cut.

  Tossing the vodka into the back of the car, and the whiskey into her purse, she put up the windows, locked the doors, and took off after Shelley.

  Madison caught up with her on the beach. Shelley parked herself near the water, but on a dry patch of sand and in full lotus position with both feet resting against the opposite thigh, the soles of he
r feet turned upward.

  Man alive, her sister really was a limber pretzel.

  Shelley stretched her arms out over her knees, touched the tips of her index finger and thumb together to form a circle, closed her eyes, and began a breathing pattern that consisted of a quick inhale followed by a forceful exhale that caused her flat belly to undulate on each out breath.

  Madison sank down on the sand beside her, settled her purse next to her, and drew her knees to her chest. She wasn’t even going to attempt that crazy cross-legged position. She hugged her knees and studied her sister.

  Shelley’s face softened and a small smile turned up the corners of her lips. The wind blew her scraggly hair over her shoulders as she tilted her chin up to the sun.

  “What are you doing?” Madison whispered.

  “Centering myself,” Shelley murmured without opening her eyes.

  Uh, okay. Madison had taken a few yoga classes in her life, but the meditations had always irritated her. She preferred moving to sitting. When she’d complained to the instructor that her mind was too active for meditation, the teacher had smiled knowingly and said, “That’s like saying you’re too dirty for a shower.”

  After that, Madison left the studio and never went back.

  “I—”

  “Shh,” Shelley said.

  Madison wriggled in the sand. Did her best to stay quiet. Failed miserably. “How long is—”

  Shelley cracked open one eye. “Just be quiet for a moment, okay? Feel the sand beneath your body.”

  “Yeah, about that. It’s really uncomfortable.”

  “So what?”

  “So what?”

  “You’re not going to die from it. Just experience the discomfort.”

  “Mr. Clean teach you this?”

  “He did.”

  “But you didn’t go back with him.”

  Shelley sighed, unfurled from the lotus position, stretching her legs in front of her, and opened both eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I learned everything he had to teach me.”